


To Be So Lonely

by Throwthemflowers



Series: Always You [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Harry wants a baby what's new, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nipple Play, One Shot, dysphoric elements, exes but lovers, gender fluidity, sequel to Singularity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22438837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Throwthemflowers/pseuds/Throwthemflowers
Summary: No one knows me, baby, the way you do...Sequel to Singularity. Angst and fluff and smut and maybe my favorite song on HS2...
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Always You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656031
Comments: 20
Kudos: 109





	To Be So Lonely

Harry moaned under the touch inside of him, gasping around a half breath as his hips stuttered. 

“Look at you, so hard for me.” 

Harry winced at the reminder of his reality, but shoved the image away. 

“Giant cock so big and thick, shit, gotta be the best dick in the city, babe, love how solid you get for me.” 

Tears came unbidden to Harry’s eyes and he snuffled, blinking furiously against the onslaught. 

“Um,” he tried, voice abnormally soft, “I don’t, um, I don’t think I actually am in the mood.” 

The fingers inside of him stopped moving. “Oh…”

“I’m just… tired, Chris. Sorry.” 

“No, no worries.” Chris withdrew his hand, and Harry suddenly felt very cold. “I’ll let myself out, alright?”

“Ya. Ya, thanks.” Harry rolled over on his side, closing his eyes against the feel of Chris scooting off his mattress, the image of him slipping on his clothes, walking out the door. 

It wasn’t always like this. But often it was, and despite trying, the words to explain himself could never quite form the way Harry wanted them too. How do you say, _my dick isn’t a male thing today, it’s soft and feminine, and you’re talking about it all wrong_. How do you explain it right, in a way that doesn't render you too split open, too vulnerable, too exposed? Because for Harry this self was fragile still, like a newborn thing, not to be trusted with just _anyone_. 

Only _someone_. 

Harry’s fingers brought up their last texts in moments, the blue and grey word blurbs daunting, terrifying… grounding. Before he could question, think better of it, he typed and hit send. 

_Might put on lipstick today._

Ages passed as Harry stared hopefully at the screen, aching for the bubbles of an incoming reply. Finally they appeared.  
_Pink or red?_

His heart spun and lept, then somersaulted. 

_Haven’t decided yet. Whichever makes me look prettiest_

_You’re always pretty, love_

Tears trickled down the side of Harry’s nose as he read the words. He pulled his knees towards his chest and hugged the phone to his heart. When the device began to vibrate he nearly jumped. 

“H-hello?” 

“Hey.” Louis’ voice held all the tenderness Harry had been craving. More tears slipped from his eyes. 

“Hi Lou. How’re you?” 

“Asleep, that’s how I was.”

“Oh. Sorry.” 

“Nah, have to get up anyway. You okay?” 

Harry shunted the self consciousness that came with being so easily understood by this man. How could he ever get over him when, from one line of text, Louis knew his entire soul?

He tried to lie. “Ya, I’m good.” His tone betrayed him, as did the catch in his throat. 

“What happened.” 

It did no good to pretend. “A boy. He liked my… my _big dick_.”

Louis waited a beat before replying. “You didn’t tell him?” 

“N-no.” Harry couldn’t stop his crying now, and hiccups peppered his voice. “That’s not… it’s not… it’s too much of _me_ , it’s too much to give.” 

“Baby.” 

The request was out of Harry’s mouth before he could be embarrassed at the desperation of it, at the selfishness. “I need _you_.”  
Harry could hear nothing but Louis’ breaths for a very long time. 

“You at home?” 

“Yes, god, yes.” 

The phone beeped and Harry pulled it away from his ear to see that Louis had hung up. With a thundering heart he lay blinking up at the ceiling, relief flooding through his veins like a drug. With the hope of finally being _seen_ , he drifted back to sleep. 

Soft lips woke him, pressed to his forehead, and Harry felt like Sleeping Beauty, felt like Snow White, the instant shift within him so palpable that he nearly burst into tears again. Louis’ gaze, his energy, soothed every question, every doubt.

“Morning again, love,” Louis whispered, an almost shy smile on his face. 

“Lou.” Harry wrapped the smaller man to him, his arms greedy to hold, to touch. Louis came easily, falling into the bed alongside him, cheek to cheek, chest to chest. His heartbeat, Harry’s favorite sound, pulsed like a drum into his ribcage. Oh what a perfect rhythm. 

“You smell like a department store. He didn’t even have the courtesy to wear something decent?” 

“Not everyone is filthy rich, Lou,” Harry giggled, ticklish as Louis nosed under his ear. 

“Mmm. Suppose not. Still, a princess shouldn’t have to smell like a leather bar stool.” Louis pushed up and sat astride Harry’s hips as he pulled off his hoodie. Soft, peachy skin filled Harry’s vision--strong arms and taught nipples and a toned tummy padded by several delicious rolls as Louis bent over. 

“You didn’t wear anything. You just smell like you.” 

“Exactly.” Louis pushed his trackies off his hips, revealing his lack of pants, revealing everything. 

Harry yanked on the sheet that separated their skin, finally succeeding in pulling it away. Louis sank atop him, their hips slotting together, slightly off-center and both doughy soft. 

“Let me look at my girl today,” Louis whispered, a coy lilt tugging the corner of his mouth. “Darling.” 

Harry knocked their teeth together in his eagerness to kiss, and Louis chuckled at this, hands coming to clasp behind Harry’s neck as he replied with his tongue. 

“You forgot your lipstick, love,” Louis murmured after a while, after their bodies had started to blossom. “I’ll get it for you later. We’d just smear it everywhere now, wouldn’t we?”

Harry moaned in response. His hands had long since begun to ache with the tension of pulling Louis as close as possible, nearer, nearer, nearer, as if by some miracle of physics they could become one being by pressure alone. 

“You’re so lovely darling, my lovely lady,” Louis said, punctuating the last word by drawing his palms down Harry’s shoulders until they rested atop his breasts. 

Shivers, giddy excitement, tumbled through Harry, catching him up like an avalanche, whirling him along. He pushed his chest up into Louis’ gentle hands, proud, sure, safe. 

“Do you like them?”

“ _Like_ them,” Louis tisked, “They’re perfection.” He illustrated this by bending to lick each of Harry’s nipples in turn, sucking the areolas between his lips and tonguing the dark pink of them until they turned from soft disks to hardened nubs. 

Harry keened, gasping at the sensation, feeling it shoot directly to his groin. “Lou…” he moaned, feverish in his bliss. 

“My beautiful girl,” Louis cooed, nuzzling against Harry’s navel on his journey lower. “What do you want, love?” 

Harry didn’t hesitate. “Want your babies, wanna be pregnant with your babies, Lou, please, please.” 

“Ya?” Louis fumbled around in the drawer of Harry’s nightstand and finally came away with a bottle of lube. 

“Please, please,” was all Harry could say as the cool gel contrasted with Louis’ warm fingers. 

“So wet for me, baby, so easy.” 

When Harry glanced down he could see the rod against Louis’ thigh. He knew he was the same, but he couldn’t bring himself to look. Louis noticed and slowed his fingers, his gaze penetrating Harry’s, searching for something in the depths of his green eyes. 

“Hey,” he whispered. “She’s perfect, Harry.”

At this declaration Harry had the courage to look at his hardness, to look and see it free of the perceptions of others, free of imposed ideals and norms and expectations. He could see now it was delicate and femenine, poised and perfect, pink like lipstick, wet with slick where his slit had bubbled open. 

“Love?” Louis withdrew his fingers and smeared lube on himself slowly, his fingers taking their time coating his shaft. 

Nodding happily, Harry spread his thighs, pulling his knees up and catching them underneath his elbows, exposing his entrance to the cool air. 

“We could have twins,” Harry rambled as Louis pushed in, his fullness a remedy for everything Harry craved. “Promise you’ll give me enough for twins?” 

“Promise,” Louis breathed, his arms trembling as he propped himself up, as he slowly bottomed out. A beat passed and Harry relaxed around the breach, a soppy grin the signal that he’d gotten comfortable. 

“Am I the best girl you’ve had?” Harry begged as Louis began to roll his hips, push and pull, drag and thrust. 

Louis didn’t answer right away; his cheeks had stained red and he’d begun to gasp, and spit had started to trickle out of his open lips. But then on a deep thrust he whispered, “Yes. The only.” 

And like an enchantment, his words opened the locks of Harry’s soul. Tears spilled freely down his cheeks and with a sudden desperate need Harry pulled his lover’s mouth against his own. 

Louis’ thrusts grew quicker, less controlled, and his tongue lost its kissing finesse as instinct took over. Harry begged him through spit-sticky lips with words too fragile to be said into the air, words that could only find safe haven in the warm of Louis’ mouth, “Fill me, Lou, fill my womb.” 

Harry moaned at the burst inside of him, at the gush of warmth that meant _babies_ and _birth_. Louis stilled, chest heaving, sweaty, burning hot. After a moment he made to pull out, but Harry clasped him in place. 

“Not yet, it’s too wonderful.” 

Acquiescing, Louis gave a low hum and began to nose into the crook of Harry’s neck. He grew soft quickly and soon slipped out anyways, accompanied by a trickle of wet. 

With a look down to Harry's belly, Louis prompted, “She’s still ready, love,” and grazed his fingers up the length of Harry, slowing to a tease around his slit. 

“She likes how you make her feel.” 

“Of course she does. I know how to treat her.” Without further ado Louis rubbed gently, up and down, his thumb and forefinger alone providing a captured press from both sides. “So perfect, Harry.”

Louis used a light touch, save where he concentrated the ends of his strokes at Harry’s tip. The gentle pressure took longer, but built higher, until Harry knew god would be temped to strike down this Babel Louis had created. His skin burned with the expectation of _end_ , and he writhed beneath his lover’s touch. 

“Come for me, darling, come for me, my pretty girl.” 

Harry obeyed with a cry, his body emptying, pushing cum from between the swollen pink of his head until he was pulsing only air, aching against the absence of more liquid. 

Only when Harry had recovered from the blurry tears in his vision did he realize what he’d yelled, why Louis was staring down at him, close-mouthed, a strange set to his jaw. 

_”I love you Lou, I love you so much…”_

These words rang in the air still, echoing about them, swarming like bees, like moths, like butterflies. 

Louis lowered himself to the bed, warm against Harry’s side. They didn’t speak for a long time, and with each breath beside him Harry fought the cramp in his heart, fought against the knowledge that the touch of the man he loved would soon be missing from his life once more. 

“Ask me something,” Louis finally said, breaking harshly into the silence. 

“Um…” Harry didn’t understand. 

“Ask me again how I am.” 

Harry turned on his side, looping an arm around his lover’s chest. “How are you, Lou?”

“Bad.” Louis didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Bad?” Harry cuddled closer. “You never said.” 

“You didn’t bother to find out.” 

“You told me you wanted space. You told me not to.” 

“Except,” Louis squirmed, easing out of Harry’s grip, “Except you text me when _you’re_ doing bad, don’t you? And I always come.”

Harry pursed his lips together. They were suddenly dry. 

“I feel foolish, and alone. But the fucked up thing is, I love you too, you know. Still. _Always._ But I know it all the time, every fucking day, not just when I’m getting fucked. Maybe this is easy for you, only realizing every so often, but it’s not fair, Harry. It’s not fair to me. It hurts me, and I can’t say no when you ask. Especially when I know you’re in pain, especially when the other men you invite into your bed don’t understand, don’t _care_ , can’t take care of you, of _her_...” 

Louis paused. “She’s perfect to me, and I would do anything for her. And you know that too well, baby.” 

The back of Harry’s throat hurt, heavy with sour cries. He sat up, the air cold on his long-sheltered back. 

“Don’t call me ‘baby’ again.” 

“Harry.” 

“I know you’ve got your reasons, I know you’re trying to be friends. But you don’t get it if you think it’s only _now_ that I love you.” Harry heard his voice grow stronger. “I love you while I’m driving to the gym, I love you when I’m in the studio, I love you when I’m eating breakfast, when I’m falling asleep, I love you when I’m with other _people_ for fuck’s sake, I love you when I go home and you’re not there. You don’t understand how hard it is for me to go home and be _so lonely_.” 

Louis shook his head against the plush pillow, denting it further, and gave a sigh. “We’re too much and not enough, Harry. I’m a pitiful idiot who put up too many walls and drove you away, and you’re an arrogant son-of-a-bitch who can’t admit when you’re sorry.” 

Sunlight filtered through the closed blinds on Harry’s window, the morning light having finally crested the neighborhood’s high rooftops. A beam fell across Louis’ chin, and on a whim Harry chased the golden kiss, matching it with one of his own. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Louis’ eyes opened wide. 

“I’m sorry I only call when I’m desperate and eaten up with need. I’m sorry I never just check in, I’m sorry I disappear for weeks until I’m broken and hurting. I’m sorry I always expect you to fix me. I’m sorry I never ask if I can fix _you_.” Harry paused and wiped at his cheeks. “Can I fix you, Lou?” 

A smile broke over Louis’ face, a weary one, a sad one, but a real one. 

“C’mere.” He pulled Harry against him. “Answer is, I don’t know. But this feels good, Harry. This feels like home.” 

“Ya.” Harry nestled deeper into the embrace of the only man he’d ever loved. “Ya, it does.”


End file.
